


For Neither Ever, Nor Never

by otayuri_oh_nice



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Angst, M/M, Mafia AU, Russian Mafia, a ring worth dying for, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:57:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuri_oh_nice/pseuds/otayuri_oh_nice
Summary: “You’ve fooled me once, Altin,” Yuri said tilting his head lightly to the side. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”“I don’t understand!”“Sure you don’t, traitor.”





	For Neither Ever, Nor Never

Otabek’s limp body hung off the chair, his arms bound behind his back and chained to the wooden chair. There was absolute silence all around, a lone bulb attached to the ceiling flickering every once in a while, the air completely still. He moved slowly around the chair, dust swirling through the air as he walked, his hands hanging on his sides, his eyes carefully watching the unmoving body still completely unconscious.

It could be so easy; a single bullet would be all it’d take, a single slice of his knife across tan skin. But easy wasn’t what he desired, easy wouldn’t give him answers, wouldn’t give him any of the sick satisfaction he craved in the pit of his stomach coiling and uncoiling like a poisonous snake ready to attack.

Standing in front of the body he sighed heavily. With one hand he gripped a handful of black hair, with the other he landed a perfect strike against his face, the sound echoing off of the walls almost too loudly leaving a ringing behind in his ears.

Otabek’s eyes flew open then, brown eyes looking around frantically until they ultimately landed on Yuri meeting his cold green stare. Yuri thought he’d knew the eyes looking into his, thought he knew the person belonging to them, knew what they thought and felt. How wrong he’d been.

He didn’t know Otabek at all.

Yuri let go of his hair and took a step back gauging Otabek’s reaction, waiting, searching, to see if he’d drop the act or continue. Yuri had been stupid but he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. _Never again_.

“Yura,” Otabek said, his voice caught somewhere between fear and confusion.

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri said calmly, controlled. He hadn’t trained under Yakov all his life to let his emotions slip. He was in perfect control just like he’d been taught, his face completely blank, his eyes empty, nothing giving his thoughts or feelings away.

“What does this mean?” he asked sounding lost and for just a second Yuri felt inclined to believe him that he didn’t know, that maybe his information’s were wrong, that maybe he did know him, but the second passed quickly.

“You’ve fooled me once, Altin,” Yuri said tilting his head lightly to the side. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I don’t understand!”

“Sure you don’t, traitor.”

“Traitor?” There it was, that spark Yuri had been waiting for. It was there so briefly he would’ve missed it if his eyes weren’t glued to Otabek’s. But he’d seen it. He was good, but Yuri was better. Obviously. Otabek was chained to the chair and not him.

“Spying on the enemy is one thing, but using me to do it…” Yuri trailed off, the sentence too emotional, too easy to let his guard slip because of it. “I found you half dead almost three years ago, bleeding out like a dog. I took you in even though I could’ve just left you out there to die, helped you, gave you a place to stay, and a new family. And this is how you thank me?”

“I can explain.”

“I don’t care about your explanations,” Yuri cut him off and took a step toward him. “All I want to know is _why_? I know why us, obviously, when it comes to power we are unmatched, even if Victor is a fucking idiot, but why _me_?”

When Mila rushed into his room just hours ago Yuri had been ready to throw her out immediately like so many times before. But she insisted, lamented that she had something to show him that he needed to see, needed to know. Yuri gave in, mostly so she would shut up and leave sooner, and regretted it mere minutes later.

Yuri was well acquainted with pain, had caught one or the other bullet before, recovered from more cuts and stabs than he could count, his body almost like a map perfect for a round of connect the dot, like the starry sky etched onto his skin. But this particular brand of pain was something he’d never felt before. It felt like fire and ice at the same time, like every wound he’d ever had combined and then some, a pain reaching deep into his soul, further than any pain had ever gone before.

Having sleeper agents working for the enemy and funneling information’s back home wasn’t anything new, wasn’t something they hadn’t done a million times before, hell even Yuri had once done the job years ago, but this was different. Usually sleeper agents go in, make friends, disappear from the enemies eyes and come home, possibly fake their death somewhere along the way if need be.

But sleeper agents are not supposed to pretend they love you.

“How could you do this to me?” Yuri growled, his voice low and filled with ice, sharp as shards of broken glass. “After everything I’ve done for you this is how you repay me?” His knuckles connected with Otabek’s face before Yuri even consciously decided to do it. Yuri was pretty sure he heard the distinct noise of something breaking but felt no pain, nothing besides a dull ache of his hand. “Was that your plan all along? Play almost dead, slip into the stupid blonds pants and then run home triumphantly with in tell and to brag to your buddies? Was I just something you felt the need to score? Maybe a bet with your fucking buddies?”

“I swear it wasn’t like that,” Otabek insisted, blood trickling out of his nose, a pitiful sight.

“I wondered why you were acting so strange after you shot that Canadian asshole but I thought that maybe it was your first proper kill or something,” Yuri mused, shaking his head lightly. “I should’ve known it then, fuck was I blind. You really are cold, aren’t you? Shot one of your own just to keep up your shtick. Fuck even we’re not that fucked up.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him kill you instead?”

Yuri could still remember the Canadian’s hands on him, his blare pressed against his neck leaving behind a tiny cut, beats of blood seeping out around the blade. He could remember the tension in the air, the wild look in Otabek’s eyes and the malice in the Canadian’s voice. Otabek hesitated and Yuri had been sure that it would be his end, that the Canadian would slit his throat and then go after Otabek next, but then the sound of a gun disrupted the moment and the piece of shit crumbled onto the ground with a hole in his skull just between his eyes. Now Otabek’s hesitance made sense, everything made sense, somewhat.

“If it were the other way around, I would’ve let one of mine kill you instead of killing one of mine,” Yuri said, coldly, even though deep down he knew it was a lie. He wouldn’t have let anyone hurt Otabek, risked his life numerous times across the past years to keep him out of harms way, but Yuri wouldn’t let the fucker see it. “Family comes first.”

Crossing the short distance, Yuri grabbed two fists full of Otabek’s shirt and just looked at him, at his face and into his eyes. How could someone feel both so foreign and familiar at the same time, how could something hurt so bad and feel like nothing at all at the same time?

“It was all just an act, wasn’t it? The poor Kazakhstani boy seeking shelter, seeking a place where he could belong and strangely ending up at the most powerful Russian mafia family. What a fucking coincidence,” Yuri said almost laughing. “Right from the start you zeroed in on me, practically ignored everyone else. At the time I felt flattered almost, thought that maybe someone genuinely wanted to get to know me. I should’ve known that it was all just part of a plan.”

The hit took Yuri by surprise, head crashing against head with awful force. Normally he’d be able to catch himself without trouble, but he hadn’t seen the blow coming and instead tipped over and fell onto the floor, stars dancing across his vision. Otabek the sly bastard used the moment to try and break free, the chair giving in under his force and strength quicker than Yuri anticipated. He should’ve known that taking a wooden chair was a bad idea from the start.

Yakov would be disappointed if he knew Yuri had made such a blatant mistake.

But it was exactly what he wanted, the last piece of evidence that Mila had been right, that Otabek truly was his enemy. What other reason would he have to attack him and break free? He should’ve just fucking shot him and spared himself the hassle.

Just as Yuri’s vision started to clear, Otabek grabbed a fist full of his hair and pulled his head up exposing his neck, the splintered piece of the chair resting against his skin. Creative.

“I’m not your enemy,” Otabek said, his voice low and sending a shiver down Yuri’s spine. He wanted to curse his own body for reacting that way.

“He said while he held a weapon against my fucking throat,” Yuri narrated, his blood boiling. “Go on, do it, spare me the words that seem to fall on deaf ears. If you won’t answer any of my questions, just fucking do it already.”

“You were never part of the plan, at least not at first,” he finally said after a moment of silence. He hesitated, did that mean he actually considered following Yuri’s command? Was he that cold? At this point Yuri wouldn’t be surprised, the fact not even hurting anymore, the pain already too much for him to bear. “They wanted me to find the weakest link, seek out anyone who seemed like they might be easy to trick into something like friendship.”

“Easy,” Yuri hissed. Never had anyone called him easy before. He shouldn’t care; he didn’t want to care, yet hearing Otabek of all people call him that hurt like a fucking bitch.

“Everything else just kind of happened. Once I knew what I felt for you, I wanted out but than JJ came along and things got messy.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” Yuri spat. “You fucking betrayed me, betrayed _us_! You made me believe you cared about me, made me believe you fucking love me and why? To have it fucking easier!”

Yuri’s elbow connected with Otabek’s side a moment later, Otabek loosening his grip on Yuri’s hair just enough for him to rip himself free. Another hit sent the chair piece flying across the room, clattering to the floor after hitting a wall. Putting all his strength into it, Yuri grabbed Otabek’s arm and threw him over his shoulder, his surprised body hitting the floor in front of Yuri with a loud thud. Before Yuri even knew what was happening he moved and pinned Otabek’s arms against the floor with his knees and his hands around his neck.

Leaving his legs free had been a mistake, the momentum enough to throw Yuri off, his side crashing against the concrete floor. A fist connected with his face, once, twice, the anger within Yuri only growing stronger, fiercer. In hindsight Yuri should’ve removed the fucking piece of shit ring from Otabek’s finger because he was pretty sure one of its sharp edges cut open his face, warm blood lightly running down his cheek. Fuck.

Somehow Yuri got a hold of Otabek’s wrists and, using the fact that he was taller, flipped them over before jumping back onto his feet with cat like reflexes, his eyes fixed on Otabek who followed his lead a moment later.

“I never wanted it to come to this,” Otabek said sounding honest adding only more fuel to Yuri’s rage but also his pain, two sets of flames threatening to swallow him whole. “I really did love you, none of it was a lie, I swear.”

“I don’t give a shit.” With lightning quick moves he practiced relentlessly over the years, Yuri pulled out his gun from his boot and pointed it at Otabek. “You could’ve said something, anything, and we would’ve helped you. If only you would’ve trusted me, loved me enough, we could be back at home now eating dinner and watching one of those shitty movies you like so much. But you had to ruin it all. Instead of trusting me, trusting Victor, Yuuri or even fucking Yakov, you ran back to your kind, told them things they shouldn’t have known. Because of you Georgi, Anya and Sara are dead, and Yuuri wounded fighting for his life.”

The silence hug heavy between them, the air thick with tension almost making it hard to breathe. The grief on Mila’s face flashed before his eyes, the panic on Victor’s face and in his eyes. None of it would’ve happened if Yuri had just been a little bit smarter. _Easy_. Maybe Otabek was right, maybe he was easy after all.

“And now, if I don’t kill you, they will kill me without hesitation because, by extension, their blood is on my hands, too. Because I was stupid enough to trust you.”

“Yura,” Otabek said, weakly, as though he only now realized the consequences his actions had. “I never wanted for any of this to happen. Seung-Gil said he wouldn’t do it, said no one would get killed.”

“And of course you believe him.” Yuri laughed. “Maybe we were perfect for each other after all, two complete fools. Do you have any last words?” Yuri didn’t want to hear anything more, didn’t want to hear any more lies, but he’d been taught time and time again to ask that question, to listen. For once he would’ve preferred to go against Yakov this one last time, but it was too late now.

“You’re no fool, Yura,” Otabek said, his words like poison, a blade running across Yuri’s skin. “And I did mean every single word I ever said, my feelings were never an act, never a lie. You might not believe me, but it’s true. If you don’t believe me, check for yourself, the pocket of my coat.”

“Goodbye, Otabek Altin, your time ends now,” Yuri said, his finger pulling the trigger. Although he’d shot a million times already, it felt unbearably hard this time as though the tripper weighed more than he could lift, more than he could bear.

The sound almost ripped Yuri’s ears into two, his heart skipping a beat, his body flinching like it hadn’t in years, not since his first kill.

Yuri had done a lot of awful things across the years, killed enough people to grant him a life sentence ten times over if he’d ever get caught, tortured assholes like it was his biggest hobby. Despite all of this, Yuri had never felt remorse, never felt guilty for spilling their blood, never regretted any of it. Yuri had been born into this life, raised and trained to become their biggest weapon, a merciless killer with nerves of steel, unflinching, emotionless when need be.

For the first time in twenty five years did Yuri feel something creep up his spine, slither up his neck and seep into his mind, a cold feeling like ice injected straight into his veins: guilt.

The gun fell from his hand with a loud metallic clatter against the concrete floor. He killed an abundance of people across his career in the mafia and never hesitated, not even during his first job. Never had his heart sped up like this, his mind turned simultaneously completely silent and unbearably loud, his skin feeling it it’d been set on fire.

For the first time in his life Yuri couldn’t do it.

Disbelieve was smeared across Otabek’s face, the red patch slowly expanding across his sleeve at a surprisingly rapid pace. Yuri never missed a target, not even once. They both knew he hadn’t missed, both knew he shot his arm on purpose instead of going for the kill.

Breaking out of his stupor Yuri walked over to the pile of clothes lying on the floor. With oddly trembling fingers he pulled out the little box from the pocket Otabek had talked about and then slipped it into his own jacket.

“If anyone asks, you’re dead,” Yuri said over his shoulder trying to memorize every last bit of his face and body knowing that they would never see each other again. “It’s only a question of time until they figure out I lied, until they’ll have my head and go after you. Run as far as you can and _never_ come back.” The words felt like burning hot coal on Yuri’s tongue, his heart heavy, his stomach churning, dread clawing at his body mercilessly. “Goodbye, Otabek Altin. Good luck.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, wanted to do, help him somehow but his hands were tied. Leaving him alive was already more than anyone would’ve done for him. If it were anyone but Yuri, Otabek would’ve been long dead. Mila would’ve slit his throat, let him bleed out like a pig hoping he’d feel more pain than any single human should feel as revenge for Sara. Victor would’ve broken every single bone in his body and left him to die in a hole at the graveyard because of what happened to Yuuri.

Chances were that Otabek wouldn’t even make it out of the city before someone would see him, report it and one of his own going in for the kill, but Yuri didn’t care. All he could od was give him a chance no one else would grant him even if he felt like his heart had been ripped straight out of his chest without warning.

Yuri had never known guilt, but now that it held him in a cold iron grip he wished he could go back, save himself from feeling this way, but he knew better. No matter which path he would’ve chosen—kill or no kill—he would feel exactly the same, the feeling of drowning almost unbearable but his feet moving at their own volition carrying him through the empty streets of St. Petersburg many hours into the night.

Before he knew it Yuri was halfway across Trinity Bridge, his arms leaning against the metal railing, his eyes looking out onto the Neva, the water dark and barely moving. The streetlanps to Yuri’s right and left cast a warm glow around him but he barely even registered any of it. It was ironic, really, that after what had just happened he would end up right here, the bridge where his downfall began two and a half years ago.

Maybe that was simply how it was supposed to be, it would begin and end right here.

With trembling cold fingers Yuri pulled out the box from his pocket and instected it. Even without opening he knew what was hidden inside. It really wasn’t hard to guess but he simply didn’t know if he had it in him to check. Would his body be able to take any more pain or was he already at a point where it simply wouldn’t make a difference anymore?

The light caught on the tiny row of diamonds running along the silver ring sitting between red velvet, a sight that two days ago would’ve made his heart beat faster and tears pool in his eyes in disbelieve, but now it only felt like yet another stab right at his heart.

“I really did love you, fucking hell,” Yuri said quietly into the night, his eyes fixed on the ring. “If asked, I would’ve said yes like the clueless pathetic idiot that I am. I really thought we had a future, really thought you loved me. I should’ve known that love simply isn’t worth the pain, should’ve killed those feelings years ago before they could’ve grown into something real.”

“Nobody is perfect, Yuri,” an all too familiar voice said and Yuri’s heart flipped in his chest as he turns his entire body toward the source. “You certainly aren’t.”

Was this how dying felt like? For years Yuri wondered how it’d feel like when he would inevitably die, catch a wound that would be too much, that would throw him over the edge. He always imagined unfathomable pain, a scream escaping his lips, tears running down his cheeks while the realization would hit him that this was the end.

In reality he felt… _nothing_.

The box slipped from his hand and landed in the water meters below with a splash, his legs going slack, his knees hitting the ground hard. Yuri could feel the hot blood running down his chest, could feel his body slowly shutting down, giving up without a fight, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with disbelieve. The sheer irony of it all hit Yuri like a last afterthought.

He should’ve seen this coming, he really should have.

“Goodbye, Yuri Plisetsky, you’re time ends now,” Otabek Altin said, Yuri’s gun still pointed at Yuri, his eyes hard, his face expressionless, the last thing Yuri saw before his last breath slipped over his lips and he ceased to be.

 


End file.
